100 Days in Deadland

by Rachel Aukes

  Something grabbed my foot, and I looked down to find a zed missing half its torso gnawing on my boot. I lifted my foot and brought it down on its head, breaking its nose. My next stomp was met with a pleasant-sounding crack of its skull fracturing.

  I jumped onto the back of Tyler’s Humvee. The other soldier had collapsed, either unconscious or dead. I relieved him of his rifle, checked him for ammo (found none), and shoved him off, knowing he could turn any moment.

  I hadn’t seen Jase yet, so I had to assume he was safely locked inside one of the other barracks. The alternative I couldn’t deal with. As for Clutch, I hadn’t seen any signs of militia yet, and I prayed that he hadn’t been pulled into this cluster fuck.

  Zeds, for all their viciousness, had a tough time climbing. Several relentlessly tried to get onto the Humvee but kept falling back. But, it wouldn’t take long for enough zeds to surround us that they’d literally get pushed up onto the vehicle.

  I searched around the bed of the Humvee for a mag, finding nothing for my rifle, but I did pull out a fresh belt of .30 cal rounds from under the pile of used shells and held it up for Tyler. He fed the belt into the gun, gave me a quick nod, and started firing again.

  I noticed the Beretta in his holster and I tapped his arm as a heads up before freeing the pistol from his holster. At the back of the Humvee, I shot any zed that got too close. Then I stopped.

  “Fuck,” I muttered when I watched the others use the bodies of the fallen to get higher. I swallowed, backed up a step closer to Tyler. We were surrounded on a small island that was about to get a whole lot smaller. I switched from killing zeds to my original plan of kicking them back.

  An artillery blast nearby blinded me momentarily, and I remembered Nick’s comment about bringing out the heavies. Through the windows of the long barrack, zeds were tearing into the people, ripping them apart like ravenous harpies. Many people had been dismembered, bodies covering the floors like gnarled stumps, while zed continued to feed. Dark blood covered everything.

  Even with all the chaos, the noise and smells around the third barrack drew all the zeds to it. Civilians began to emerge from the other barracks, carrying weapons and joining the fray.

  My heart lurched. The familiar saunter was unmistakable. Jase. I watched as he fought alongside Eddy, each teenager firing his own AR-15, and Mutt tucked into a pocket, seemingly fearless. “Be safe,” I whispered before being forced to deal with my own issues.

  I fired my last two bullets into a zed that made it onto the Humvee and resumed kicking the monsters back. My muscles burned and shook from exhaustion, but I kept pushing.

  Finally, somehow, the tides began to shift. With the zeds centralized around the third barrack, Tyler shouted commands into his radio, and the troops formed a front against the mass. Soldiers with grenade launchers unleashed a fury of explosions onto the undead invaders.

  Tyler’s .30 cal clicked on empty. The sudden lack of vibration and noise washed despair over me. Tyler and I shared a knowing glance.

  The soldier I’d shoved off the back had turned and now jumped at the truck. Freshly turned zeds were nearly as fast and agile as humans, and it worked its way through the lumbering rotted lot to climb onto the Humvee. It lunged at Tyler first, who was already pulling out his knife. I grabbed the zed’s shirt to slow it down. It twisted around and lashed out at me. I jumped back, nearly tumbling off the edge and into the sea of waiting arms. As the zed came at me, Tyler shoved a blade through the skull of what used to be one of Camp Fox’s loyal soldiers.

  The zed collapsed, and Tyler fell to his knees, his shoulders slumped. “Jonesie was a good man.”

  I rested a hand on his back.

  Tyler’s head sagged. “He was the last of my original squad.”

  I stood there, staring out over the clawed hands reaching for us. Every now and then one fell. Confused, I scanned to find several troops shooting their way toward us. The heaviness from my chest lifted, and I was able to suck in a breath. “Look.” I pulled Tyler up. “See? It’s going to be okay.”

  By the time the soldiers reached us, no zeds were left standing. Single shots were fired sporadically as soldiers put down zeds still moving.

  I jumped down, stumbling over bodies. The Camp was utter carnage. Blood mixed with brown goo. I searched for signs of Jase, and found him with Eddy, finishing off wounded zeds. I smiled. You’re going to be all right.

  My smile faded when I caught a glimpse of camouflage propped against the side of the barrack, and I burst toward him. But I wasn’t fast enough. “Nick!” I cried out right as the badly injured soldier shoved his pistol in his own mouth and pulled the trigger.

  I collapsed to my knees.

  I never saw the zed until it fell upon me.

  Chapter XIV

  I rolled over, kicking away from the zed, and stabbed it through its eye before I realized that someone had already shot it from behind. Brown sludge seeped from the eye like half-set pudding, and I fell onto my butt, gagging at the stench.

  “You okay?”

  I looked up to see Griz standing before me.

  “I am now,” I said.

  He held out a hand and pulled me up. “Hoorah,” he grunted before heading after another zed that needed put down.

  I stood near the third barrack—what remained of it, anyway—which was now a giant campfire, with flickers of embers and glints of soot showering us. Corpses covered the ground around me. Most lay unmoving. One zed had a blade through its mouth, pinning it to the ground. It chewed at the handle even while it convulsed and spasmed.

  Someone had turned the sirens off, but the remaining sounds—cries of the dying—were heart-wrenching. A woman’s weeping drew me to the shadows to my left. I edged closer, keeping the knife ready. She lay amid the corpses, her shoulder and leg badly chewed. She didn’t have long before she turned, not with injuries that bad. She was clawing at the dirt with wretched, bloody hands, trying to pull herself toward something. “My baby,” she cried over and over.

  I frowned and looked to where she was trying to drag herself. A tiny body lay unmoving on the ground, its limbs twisted in unnatural ways.

  I kept the knife ready in case the infant had turned, though I supposed it’d have no teeth to bite with. I rolled the baby over to find myself looking at the lifeless eyes of an infant, his fear frozen in his features at death. With such severe injuries, if he were going to turn, he would’ve by now. I’d seen a handful of people who’d died instead of turning. Maybe they’re bodies weren’t strong enough to support the virus, maybe they had some kind of immunity, who knew. I figured those were the lucky ones.

  I lifted the baby’s broken body as gently as I could and carried him over to his mother. She reached out with her uninjured arm and pulled him to her. She buried her face in his hair and rocked him, murmuring loving words into his ears.

  I left her alone while I went back to where Nick lay propped against the building and got what I needed.

  I reloaded the Beretta as I walked toward the woman. Tears blurred my aim, but I was close enough it wouldn’t matter. I fired twice at point blank.

  Her suffering was over.

  A hand touched my shoulder, and I snapped around to see Tyler.

  He grabbed my free hand. “Come with me.”

  He led me down the block. He only let go to shoot a stray zed.

  At the end of the block, he commandeered a Jeep. He drove in silence, taking me through the winding roads. As we approached the open square, I stared at the silhouette of the lone gallows under the moonlight.

  “You were going to hang me?” I asked. “Is that part of your so-called justice system?”

  “It wasn’t for you,” Tyler said quickly. “It was for a convict who killed one civilian and injured another when they caught him stealing food.”

  I rode numbly as Tyler drove us to an area of the camp where several large garages stood. In the fence was a gate that had been blasted open.

  Tyler parked and looked me o
ver. “Lendt’s a stickler for rules, so even though you helped tonight, he’ll still have you stand trial. I agree with him that you should stand trial, but the game’s changed. But, I also think that, sometimes, the rules need to be broken. With all the chaos, it would’ve been easy for you to escape.”

  I cocked my head at Tyler’s words.

  “Though I wish it wasn’t the case, we have to part ways. At least until I can get the charges against you reduced,” Tyler said.

  Before getting out, I paused. “Take care of Jase. He’s a good kid.”

  Without waiting for a response, I jumped out and set a brisk pace into the darkness.

  “Hold up,” Tyler said, catching up.

  I swallowed, then turned. He handed me another clip and then placed his hand behind my neck and kissed my forehead. “Be careful out there.”

  I gave a small smile and started walking again.

  “Watch your six,” Tyler called out behind me.

  I paused for a moment, and then took off at a full run through the gate and into the night.

  ****

  The east horizon was growing lighter than the west, meaning that dawn wasn’t far behind. I jogged down the road to cover as much distance as possible before the sun would betray me to any Dogs and zeds in the area. I ran around a few zed stragglers on the roads, but didn’t stop to kill them, instead, moving as quickly as I could before more showed.

  My lungs burned. My body was drenched with sweat, and I’d run less than five miles because I could just make out the outline of Doyle’s camp in my path.

  I wanted to burst into the camp and save Clutch. Except stupid heroics would only get us both killed. Clutch had always told me to never go on an offensive without being prepared. He’d told me often, “Whatever you didn’t plan for, that’s what’s going to happen.” Worse, after the Camp attack (What the fuck was Doyle thinking, to go after Camp Fox like that?), the Dogs would be on high alert, waiting for repercussions, and ready to gun me down the moment I stepped near their camp.

  “I’m coming back for you,” I promised Clutch and kept jogging.

  As the first rays of sunlight ebbed over the horizon, I detoured through a field that had been freshly plowed in the spring but already showed signs of being retaken by prairie grasses. The ground was rough, and I slowed to a walk to not twist an ankle. Within minutes, I entered the woods that lined the field, where the trees could hide me from both zeds and Dogs.

  But trees could hide zeds just as well.

  When the sun lit up the world, I moved slowly but steadily toward the farm. I figured I had around thirty miles to go, which would take me a full day at the rate I was moving.

  Spending a night in the woods with zeds wasn’t my idea of fun, but any nearby houses could have Dogs. So I kept moving through the woods like a predator but feeling more like prey.

  When I came to a road, I didn’t cross. Still too close to Doyle’s camp. I walked alongside the highway, weaving through trees until I came to small creek running under the road through a round culvert. Keeping my larger knife firmly in my grip, I crept closer, stepping into the water. Cold water climbed up my legs and trickled down into my boots, and I grimaced. Soggy feet would be hell in a few hours.

  I moved slowly to prevent splashing water. Finally, I reached the metal culvert, and thankfully it was empty except for a few inches of water rippling through it.

  My throat was parched. I wanted to drink from the stream so badly, but between farm runoff and the potential for zeds or dead bodies to be lying in it upstream, there was too great a risk of dysentery.

  The culvert was small. I had to wade through it on my hands and knees, and with every move forward, I prayed that nothing hungry waited on the other side. God, I wished there was another way, but I had to cross. The road curved around to the east, and I needed to go west.

  When I came out the other side, it was blissfully peaceful, with nothing but the sounds of the water burbling into the creek below. Feet forward, I pushed myself out but slipped on the wet metal.

  I hissed at the sharp pain. “Shit!” I watched the blood as it grew from the deep slice across my palm. Red tinted the water as the blood dripped from my hand and washed downstream. Having no gear meant having no first aid kit. I leaned back and held my hand up to slow the bleeding. The cut was deep and wide and would likely get infected if I didn’t take care of it properly soon.

  The sun was high overhead. My tongue felt like it had doubled in size from dehydration and sat like a giant cotton ball in my mouth. My stomach growled, but hunger was an easier thing to ignore.

  With my hand still bleeding, I continued moving through the woods, surprised at the absence of zeds, especially with their seemingly excellent sense of smell. Doyle’s Dogs did a hell of a job, either by keeping their area cleaned out or by leading every zed in the area into Camp Fox. Regardless, it made my trip back to the farm easier.

  But it wasn’t faster. I still had to pause at every tree to scan for movement.

  I came across my first zed in the woods sometime during late afternoon. It’d been a man about my age, wearing a sporty T-shirt with a big logo. I couldn’t see any injuries. In fact, as the dull infected features went, its were almost gentle behind gold-rimmed sunglasses. That was, until it sniffed the air and snarled.

  Taking a breath, I stepped out and it lunged. I jumped around the tree and came up behind the zed, shoved the knife through the base of its skull, and pushed upward.

  Its body shuddered, and then collapsed.

  Zeds were vicious monsters, but they had their Achilles heels. One of those was that they couldn’t corner worth a shit.

  I bent down and lifted the zed’s left wrist with a silver watch strapped around it. Five-fifteen.

  Less than three hours until sunset. I was moving slower than I’d planned.

  I couldn’t make it much longer. I had to find clean water soon. Taking on the risk of creating noise, I moved faster through the woods, sloshing through two more creeks until I stopped at a mulberry bush laden with green and dark berries. Most weren’t ripe, but I ate several handfuls, anyway.

  With my energy somewhat renewed, I continued searching for a house to stay in for the night. When I finally saw the shape of a house in the distance, I sighed. “Thank God.”

  I set off into a jog toward the clearing. When I emerged from the woods, I slowed down, and then stopped. “Oh, fuck me.”

  Because standing before me wasn’t just one house. It was Chow Town.

  Chapter XV

  I’d traveled too far north.

  Clutch’s farm was southwest of town. Camp Fox was southeast of town.

  I never should’ve gotten close to Chow Town.

  Without a GPS or compass, I’d let the woods guide me right to the backyard of a large two-story house in a row of cookie-cutter two-story houses in a newer sub-development for as far I could see.

  “Sonofabitch.”

  I walked past the play set and up to the patio door. Certainly, not all of these houses had zeds inside. I crossed my fingers. After looking inside and seeing no signs of zeds or violence, I rapped on the glass. A clamor erupted from somewhere deep inside the house.

  I sprinted over a short chain-link fence and into the next yard. That was the good thing about zeds. They clung to the out of sight, out of mind philosophy and lost focus on their prey quickly if they couldn’t see, hear, or smell it. But once they’d homed in on a target, they could be damn near relentless.

  I didn’t even knock at the next house. I could see overturned chairs, something dead and furry and on the floor, and a shape hovering at the kitchen window. I crept away from the patio door.

  Finally, at the fifth house—one with a nice rock garden in its backyard—I rapped on the glass and waited and rapped again.

  Silence greeted me.

  Even better, the patio door had been left unlocked, and it slid open silently and smoothly. I pulled out my larger knife and stepped inside, carefully closing and
locking the door behind me.

  The air was stale and hinted of rotten fruit but didn’t contain the all-too-familiar stench of infection and decay.

  I tiptoed across the open dining room and noticed drawers left ajar in the kitchen as though someone had left in a hurry. I bypassed the kitchen to the adjacent living room. No signs of struggle. Checked out the hallway, closets, a nicely finished basement, and upstairs. The master bed hadn’t been made yet, and several shirts lay strewn across the mattress. “Thank God,” I muttered and hustled downstairs. Whoever lived here must’ve left town as soon as the outbreak hit. If they got lucky, maybe they got to wherever it was they’d been headed.

  Back in the kitchen, I turned on the faucet. Nothing, as expected. Before checking the refrigerator for liquids, I walked into the large walk-in pantry and smiled. Inside was bliss. It wasn’t fully stocked by any means, but a dozen or so cans of food, several bottles of wine, and a case of flavored water waited on the shelves. I went straight for the water, tearing through the plastic, and grabbed two bottles. I chugged the first down without stopping.

  I leaned back against a shelf, careful to avoid the fuzzy green bread. There was enough here to last me a week, maybe longer. Since this neighborhood hadn’t looted yet, the Dogs must’ve had the same idea as us when it came to Chow Town. The risk of drawing out a herd of zeds in this town was too high to take as long as we could still find food in solitary, secluded farmhouses with no more than a few zeds to deal with at one time.

  It was a good reminder that I had to remain silent and unseen. I’d already stirred up zeds in at least three nearby houses. I could only hope given up by now and gone back to lumbering around their homes. They could easily break out of the homes, especially through the all-glass patio doors. Clearly, they hadn’t had a reason to…until possibly now.

  No matter. I planned to back to the farm by dark, which was only an hour or so away.

  I closed the kitchen blinds and patio shades to hide my movements.